A Cure For Insomnia
by Lurkoholic
Summary: Skywarp can't fall into recharge, and Thundercracker won't be able to either until this is remedied. Fluff and wing scritches ensue.


I wrote this one immediately after writing a depressing song fic while listening to A Perfect Circle. I needed a bit of fluff to soothe me before bed.

Warnings: Fluff. Do you need a warning for that?

Once again, I renounce all claim to Thunder and 'Warp and Transformers property.

 **POV: Thundercracker**

 **-**

"TC…?"

"Hmmpf?" I grunt but don't stir. A quick check on my chronometer, as suspected, I've barely just slipped into recharge.

"TC… are you awake?"

"I am now," I sigh, on-lining my optics. Across the darkened room I can see Skywarp's optics shining through the gloom, he's sitting up in his berth watching me.

"I can't recharge."

Boy, does he ever sound like a sparkling right now. Thankfully this is a rare occurrence, or I'd be feeling distinctly less charitable right now. Skywarp usually has this amazing ability to slip into recharge anywhere at any time. It's a bit of a liability.

"That makes two of us now," I grumble pulling myself into a sitting position.

"Sorry TC, I just can't stop my processor from going round and round. It's annoying…"

"And very un-Skywarpish," I interject.

I get a glossa poked out at me for that.

"So it's clear I'm not going to be getting any rest until you manage to access your recharge routine. Thankfully, I have just the cure."

Skywarp's mouth turns gently up and his wings perk.

"Turn around then, lie down."

"Thanks TC!" Skywarp gives me a bright smile and quickly flops over onto his front, his arms pillowing his head, wriggling happily.

I kneel down next to his berth and reach out my hands and lay my palms over his wings which twitch in anticipation.

"Alright, shutter your optics and try to relax." I stroke my palms firmly over his broad wings.

"Sure thing… mmmmmmm..."

Starting from the top near the connection to his back struts, I stroke down to the lower margin of his wing, then sweeping up and out towards his wingtips, then back to where I started in two big circles on each wing.

As I continue this Skywarp hums with pleasure, nuzzling into the cook of his arm, almost purring.

"Imagine you're flying through the clouds on a clear day. The sun and air warming and enveloping your wings."

I get a long sigh in response. My voice is sonorous, and if experience has anything to go by, it seems to have a soporific effect on my wing mate. Particularly when I'm lecturing him on something, the little glitch. In this instance I'm more than willing to abuse its qualities.

"You are flying over the ocean. You drift lower and dip your wingtips into the water."

I lightly glide my palms up the outer edge of each wing blade interchangeably, gently rocking his wings slightly from side to side.

His forearm muffles a yawn and a quiet huff. I smile.

"The spray from the sea coats your wings."

Palms leaving the edge of his wings now, my fingertips patter gently down his wing stripes.

I get a little snort in response, "TC… tickles…" he whines sleepily.

"I know. And I'm not sorry," I smirk down at my wing mate, despite my playful interlude, he's still on the cusp of rolling into recharge.

"Fragger…" he snuggles deeper into his forearm.

I elect to leave his wings and place my palms on his back struts. The structure which bears the weight and movement of seeker wings every day of his life. I firmly stroke up, and then gently stroke back down.

Lacking inspiration to continue my little story, I instinctively start humming an old song from Vos. It's meant for a much higher voice than mine, but it still comes out recognizable. Humming the song puts me in mind of my time as a seekerling before the war began. Fleetingly I wonder if Skywarp remembers the song, though the young seeker was sparked some years after the war began and had been reformatted rapidly into an adult mech form.

Looking down at that form now, I see that my work is done. A quiet buzzing is emitting from Skywarp's face, buried in his folded arms.

I smile fondly, wondering once again how and when that afthead had had taken up residence in the softest part of my spark. I can barely admit it to myself. It would be too dangerous to ever put voice to it; that Skywarp is anything more to me than a friend and an occasional roll-on-the-berth. I wonder, does he know? Yet perhaps I am safe in that Skywarp's naiveté seems to know no bounds. I'm his comrade, his wing mate, his closest friend. Of course, that's all he would see this as. It's for the best.

I trail the back of knuckles over an audial.

He only stirs enough to draw in a particularly congested sounding snore. It would be gross, if it wasn't him.

Returning to me own berth, I lie myself down facing him, my optics taking in him before they start to flutter shut.

"Good night 'Warp… pleasant dreams…"

 **Fin.**


End file.
